


Soul

by chrissy2



Category: See No Evil: The Moors Murders
Genre: Broken Families, Broken sisters, F/M, M/M, Memories of the Days Before, Moors Murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy2/pseuds/chrissy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Does a dog have a soul?'</p>
<p>He had Dave dancing in the palm of his hands since the beginning, and he hated himself for letting it happen.</p>
<p>Dave watched his first love, Maureen, slowly wither away. He watched her mind and body crumble until a brain haemorrhage mercy killed her at 30. Murderers may not feel any remorse for their actions, no matter how long they stay alone with their thoughts in prison--but it sure as hell leaves everyone they love with a heavy burden.</p>
<p>Dave was strong. He lived through it, but Maureen's life was destroyed. And seeing a bunch of fucks out there idolizing or romanticizing the Moor murderers made him fucking sick. He had to set the record straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul

**'Does a dog have a soul?'**

Dave, now middle-aged and bitter and widowed, could have easily answered that question then. Of course dogs had souls. Dogs cry and wag their tails in excitement. Such emotional creatures must have souls. And even if such a thing did not exist, what did it matter? So long as the person or animal was compassionate and loving?

_Like dogs, do you?_

Yeah, I got one.

_Well then, I have a question for you:_

**Does a dog have a soul?**

Ian asks the question quickly, with no hesitation. It makes Dave stutter and Ian asks the question again, only with a lot more force: _I said, 'Does a dog--have a soul?'_

_Now we can agree that maybe a dog has a personality. So why not a soul?_

[Dave finds himself at a loss for words. He isn't sure what to think.]

_Or maybe you think the entire notion of a soul is--trash, eh?_

The word 'trash' is thrown out with something of a French dialect, or Scottish, perhaps. Maureen gives Dave a quick look from across the room. A raise of the eyebrows at Ian's boldness, or at Ian's eccentricity or weirdness. This was Dave's first time meeting her sister's boyfriend and she had warned him that he was--quite strange. At the time, Dave wasn't exactly sure what Maureen meant by the look, so he just kept quiet and let Ian continue with whatever the hell he was insinuating.

_That a dog is nothing more than_ _a_ \-- _(he thinks for a moment)--complex. A biological machine--as are we. Us. Here. Now. In this very room._

[Dave takes a moment to look around at the room they were in and out of consideration, out of perspective, looks at everything differently, for the sake of philosophy and argument.] 

_And that by extension, the whole notion of the 'soul'--is SHIET._

[From across the room on the couch, next to her sister, Myra chuckles in amusement, as if she had gotten used to her boyfriend spouting such nonsense, challenging unsuspecting people with strange perspectives.]

_And God. The whole notion of God is too._

Myra watches Dave's face crunch up in confusion. "Bloody hell, [some strange pet name for her boyfriend that Dave could not catch]," she says, smirking. The memory of it was disgusting. He himself could never believe such a monster changing for the good. "You've confused him now."

"Hey, now [throws out some strange pet name for Myra]. Please. Language." Ian's entire demeanor seems to change in an instant. His tone is more playful, flirtatious now.

"That's rich coming from you."

"Eh?" Ian, now more playful than ever, points a finger at her. "You sayin' I'm a hypocrite? Eh?"

Ian then goes on about his silly swear box, leaving Dave in a state of confusion that his inner murderer might have found hilarious; leaving him silent and eyebrows knotting. That's all he ever liked to do. He loved toying with people's lives. It made him feel powerful. The guy throws out a swear here and there to make the girls giggle and joins Dave at the other end, asking him about his job and all that.

It was one hell of a meeting.

As much as it embarrassed him, Ian's words were stuck in his head for days after, the words heard in the same deep voice, teased in occasional French or Scottish. Maureen certainly found it amusing, Dave's admiration and wanting to impress the man like a little brother or underclassman. It just made Dave agitated and moody.

For their second meeting, Ian and Myra dragged the couple out to those bloody Moors. The hills stretched for miles--empty, not a single house. It was nice, but the wind blew all the time there and it was fucking cold. Dave's focus was more on how fucking cold it was than anything. Maureen was colder than he was, but kept it all to herself out of consideration. It was a long drive there in Myra's old car and it was nice of them to make time for the couple.

Ian's silliness--taking his shirt off and wrapping it around his head like a turban, rain dancing on top of a large rock while balancing a shot glass on his head--it was funny at first, but after a while it just got annoying. Dave's brother-in-law to be seemed to grow more and more senseless, just like any other typical idiot around the block.

Ian goofs around a bit, posing for Myra's camera. Then still with his shirt around his head, Ian turns to view the empty rolling hills and yells over the high winds: "So Dave, what do you think?"

"I don't get it." Dave's annoyance couldn't have been more obvious in his response. He was exhausted from working late hours and he always worried about Angela when they were away. Nothing against Maureen and Myra's mum and dad.

"Dave," Maureen snaps, and turns to Myra sitting on another rock with her camera. "It's lovely."

He didn't mean to ruin things. He did not mean to ruin it for the girls. But the guy was so bloody vague. Vagueness often gave Dave the impression of a liar, a hypocrite or some pretentious asshole. Ian was so full of himself, so proud. Then once Dave was home and alone with his thoughts, he would feel ashamed, call himself a child for thinking such simple-minded things.

_You don't know nothing about where I'm from, son._

So then tell us. What's it like?--Scotland. [He opens his arms and looks around at all the empty hills.] Like this, or what?

_Some places, aye. Some places, a wee bit more urban. There's not a wee bit a [a word Dave is unable understand in his thick accent], or a bank. But in some places, a man's head is split open by another man for simply looking at him a little weird._

[It was one of the damnest things he had ever heard. He stands, becoming level to Ian.] So which part are you from?

_Why can't I have an acquaintance with both?--_

\--Why can't you ever give a straight answer to a straight question?

_[Ian's eyes darken and his voice deepens in an instant.] There's a wee thing called privacy. I'll thank you to respect mine._

He was jealous of Ian.


End file.
